Glass Slipper
by slam a revolving door
Summary: [Oneshot]'The sound of her sisters screeching down the hall was all Bianca heard when she awoke the next day.' When the prince comes around with the glass slipper, the last thing he is expecting is a disgruntled first time fairy godmother.


**Disclaimer: I do not own Cinderella.**

**A/N: This is dedicated to Alex. **

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_**Glass Slipper**_

The sound of her sisters screeching down the hall was all Bianca heard when she awoke the next day.

"He's here, Bee, he's HERE. Get up, get UP!" Charmaine, her oldest sister poked her head around the door.

"Who is?" Bianca asked blearily, rubbing her eyes. Charmaine looked at her in partial annoyance.

"The _prince_, you dolt! He's _here_!"

The fact took a while to register in Bianca's tired, confused mind. And when it did, the only result was a look of endearing disgust on her face.

"Why would _he _be coming _here_?" She looked at her sister.

"I don't know, but Mother wants you to get up and wear your nicest dress." Charmaine ran to her sister's wardrobe and wrenched the dress from it.

"Ohh…" Bianca moaned, flopping back onto her bed. "Why should I dress up for a spoilt, stuck-up prick?"

Charmaine didn't answer for a moment – she was far too busy forcing the sea-green dress over her sister's head.

"Because he's the prince and you're the most beautiful girl in this city. And because you have a duty to our family." She finally replied shortly. Bianca sat up indignantly as her dark brown hair was pulled up and back.

"Firstly, I don't _care _if he's the prince – I bet he had a wonderful time last night at the ball gazing into the eyes of that mercenary wrench – Cinderella – the servant acting above her station. And secondly, I'm _not _the most beautiful girl in this city! But fine. Otherwise, fine."

Her sister's only answer was to yank harder on her hair.

"Why don't _you_ charm him then, if you're so interested?" Bianca suggested hopefully. Charmaine sighed.

"I could never do that, my dear."

She grabbed hold of her sister's arm and dragged her out of the room in the most undignified manner.

"Come _on_!" Charmaine grizzled, pulling her sister and running the length of the hallway down to their sitting room where their sister Arabella sat, trying the glass slipper on. Their mother looked up as they entered, Charmaine slightly out of breath.

"Ah, Your Highness, these are my two youngest girls: Bianca and Charmaine."

The prince looked up from his silent study of Arabella to nod briefly at the girls. His gaze caught Bianca's and held for a moment. Bianca felt a slight tinge of annoyance at her quickened heartbeat. For heaven's sake, he was probably a spoilt brat!

"It doesn't fit Your Highness. I told you so." Arabella looked up at the prince. The prince looked slightly disappointed – after all, Arabella _was _pretty, with her shiny honey coloured hair and clear grey eyes. He nodded and thanked her. Bianca had to admit that his manners were perfect.

"Who would like to try the slipper next?" The prince asked, smiling at the girls. Bianca looked at Charmaine.

"You can, Char." Bianca told her sister. "I really don't mind."

"But you're older than me." Charmaine protested. "And your feet are smaller."

Bianca rolled her eyes.

"Just go."

Charmaine laughed and sat on the chair that Arabella had vacated. Arabella moved over to Bianca's side.

"You'll be able to fit it." She whispered. "It's the perfect size for you."

In reply, Bianca rolled her eyes.

"I really have no inclination to be queen." She told her sister in an undertone.

"It doesn't fit!" Charmaine announced an undercurrent of triumph in her voice as she surveyed Bianca. The prince noted the undercurrent and raised his eyebrows slightly.

"Lady?" He looked at Bianca. Bianca sighed, resigned and walked forward. As she reached out to take the glass slipper from the prince's hand, their eyes and she froze.

"Your Highness," said she, "is this really necessary? I can most readily assure you that every girl, every young lass who you have had the good fortune to meet today knows who the lady you are enamoured with is."

The prince looked startled at her outburst and her sisters and mother were openly laughing. They were used to her bluntness; he was not.

"Indeed? Who is my true love?" The prince asked, the beginnings of a smile tugging his lips. Bianca didn't like the look of that smile. Not one bit.

"There is a household, not far from here owned by the Lady Yvette and her two daughters Geraldine and Henrietta. They have a servant, by the name of Ella, who maintains that she is Lady Yvette's stepdaughter. This, however, is a complete untruth – Lady Yvette has been living in that estate for longer than Ella has been alive. She is an honourable lady, she would not _dream_ of taking a second husband after the death of her first. Ella is an orphaned street waif who Lady Yvette took in out of the kindness of her heart and allowed to stay for as long as she helped earn her keep."

The prince smiled, looking vaguely amused.

"You know, that sounded a lot like what a jealous spurned suitor would tell me."

Bianca spluttered.

"Suitor? Excuse _me_, your _Highness_, but _suitor_ usually describes the would-be lovers of _females_, of which you are not one."

The prince shrugged.

"Nevertheless, it does sound rather like it."

Bianca made a noise of deep dissatisfaction in the back of her throat.

"I'll take you to Lady Yvette's estate now if you wish." She spun around, not giving him time for an answer to face her mother.

"What are you doing?" Her mother asked.

"Taking him to his true love." Bianca smiled. "I take my leave."

The prince caught up with her halfway down the street. He caught onto her sleeve and she jerked free.

"What are you doing?" He asked in an all-too-loud voice. bystanders turn to watch us. One little girl tugs on her mother's skirt and whispers.

"Is that the prince?" To which her mother replies –

"Shh! It's rude to stare!"

Bianca glanced over at the wide-eyed child and laughed. The prince gazed at her wonderingly.

"What?" She shot at him. "What should I be doing?"

The prince looked confused for a moment then remembered his earlier question.

"Nothing… I thought… I just thought that ladies… that ladies don't run around the streets…?" His voice had a faint questioning lift to it. Bianca lifted her nose in the air.

"I am not a spoilt highbred and born lady. I am not a pampered brat and I do not appreciate you implying that I am one." She answered, adopting a haughty tone.

"Then where are you going?" The prince asked walking alongside her.

"To find your true love." Bianca replied, placing a faint emphasis on 'true love'. The prince looked distinctly uncomfortable.

"It's alright, really. I'm sure I could find her myself."

"You mean, _after_, you run through about thirty-three houses and see about sixty-six pairs of smelly feet and insist to see _every_ girl in the house only to discover that your true love's stepfamily have kept her locked up?" Bianca asked, taking big strides to match the prince's own.

"What are you talking about?" The prince asked, obviously befuddled. Bianca stopped abruptly and turned to face him.

"Don't tell me you've never read the story of Cinderella." At the prince's slow shake of his handsome head, she rolled her eyes and continued walking. "I can't believe it. We're going to be ruled one day by an illiterate fool."

"I'm good at writing…" The prince offered tentatively. Bianca laughed, a mocking sound.

"Great. We're being led by an idiot with a crayon."

The prince laughed, startling her slightly. He opened his mouth to answer, but she cut him off.

"We're here."

It wasn't a modest cottage – that was certain. In fact it was rather big and imposing. The mansion loomed in front of them, complete with a do-it-yourself crystal garden and a fountain. The prince stopped short for a moment, trying to take in the splendour, but Bianca ploughed on. Instead of entering through the main doors where a snobby butler waited, she walked around the side and entered via a side-door. The prince, after a longing look at the grand main doors, followed suit.

"Where are we going?" He asked cautiously.

"We're bringing you to your doom. It's a plot to capture and control the monarchy." Bianca replied with a perfectly straight face. "To find your true love? Isn't that what you want?" Without waiting for an answer, she opened another door, which led straight to the kitchen.

"Oh, Lord, how are we going to get this cake done in time? Where's Ella? Lucy, where's Ella?" A frazzled looking cook asked, bustling around.

"That's what I wanted to know myself." Bianca commented. The cook spun around

"Bee! I'm so glad to see you!"

"Bee?" The prince asked in a questioning undertone. Bianca shrugged.

"It's a nickname. Although since you are so high and mighty, you obviously don't have nicknames. Oh no, that's far too informal and casual for one such as you."

"Actually, I do." The prince confessed a look of intense embarrassment on his face. "It's Trousers. Because as a child I used to run around the palace with none on."

Bianca looked at the prince for a moment, then shook her head and turned back to cook.

"Hello Diane." She said, suddenly sounding tired. "Need help?"

"Yes please!" Diane smiled gratefully. "That would be lovely. Ella has disappeared – probably gone to complain to the mistress and Karla is sick."

Bianca sighed and reached over for an apron. She tied it over her dress, picked up a spoon and started to stir a thick creamy sauce in a pot. She looked at the prince for a moment and closed her eyes.

"Diane, where's Ella?"

"Probably complaining to the mistress." Diane sighed.

"May I take his highness to see her?"

Diane looked at the prince for a moment.

"Am I supposed to bow, scrape and grovel?" She asked sarcastically. The prince smiled tentatively.

"Huh?"

"Eloquent." Diane rolled her eyes. "This is what's going to lead us?"

Bianca nodded.

"A stuttering, illiterate fool."

"I can write!" The prince protested.

"We've already established this. You're an idiot with a crayon, remember?" Bianca reminded him with a superior expression. "Come on, I'll take you there."

They walked down the hallway, the prince acutely aware of Bianca's sudden and cold silence and the apron that still hung from around her neck.

"Their living quarters are here. Geraldine will most probably be in the garden and Henrietta will be backing her mother up here. Come on in." She opened the door. In that next instant both recoiled as loud screams reached their ears.

"… YOU NEVER DO ANY WORK AND I HAVE TO DO IT ALL; WHY ARE YOU SO LAZY?" As the speaker paused for breath, the prince looked at Bianca with raised eyebrows.

"And you tried to convince me that my true love's stepfamily weren't evil?"

"Evil is such an ambiguous word." Bianca sighed. "And no, they're not evil. Come in… if you dare."

They stepped in and, for the first time, saw the speaker.

She was a short, diminutive girl who had been most soundly blessed with delicate good looks. Her long white-blond curls cascaded in waves down her back and her skin was pale and soft. She was dressed in a embroidered pale pink gown that flowed down to her feet. Bianca heard the prince's sharp intake of breath and rolled her eyes. Boys. They never learnt.

In front of her stood… a lady. There was no other word for it – she was most certainly a lady. She had a slightly bored expression on her face as she surveyed the Angel in front of her. Behind her stood a girl – the only occupant of the room aware of Bianca and the prince's entry. She smiled hesitantly and waved to Bianca.

"Mother…" She started tentatively.

"STOP INTERRUPTING ME! I HAVEN'T FINISHED LISTING MY COMPLAINTS YET!"

"Ahem." Bianca coughed loudly and deliberately. "Good afternoon Lady Yvette… Henry… Ella."

Lady Yvette spun around.

"Why, hello there, Bee. Would you care to introduce us to your young man."

Bianca wondered vaguely the forces of gravity had decided to stop working, causing all the blood to rush to her face.

"He's not my young man… I mean… he's Ella's!"

Ella twisted around to examine the prince.

"Joshua?" She asked wonderingly, suddenly all coy sweetness.

"Joshua!" Bianca exclaimed. Everyone looked at her. "I mean, your highness! I mean, I was wondering what your name was – I mean…" She trailed off.

"How could you forget his name?" Ella asked scornfully. "It's in every newspaper all over town!"

"I've never been much of a propaganda person…" Bianca confessed. The prince – JOSHUA – PRINCE Joshua – looked at her, amused.

"You could always have asked me."

"And deprive myself the pleasure of using your title? I don't think so." Bianca retorted, sarcasm dripping in her voice.

"How could I ever ask you to that?" The prince asked, smiling.

"I have absolutely no idea your highness." Bianca replied. Ella looked from the prince to Bianca and back again.

"Would you care to reintroduce us?" She asked, smiling sweetly. In an undertone she added to Bianca. "_Stop flirting with him!_"

Bianca rolled her eyes.

"Your highness, your true love. Your true love, your highness."

The introduction was poor by anyone's standards, but even so, Ella batted her eyes and smiled.

"A pleasure Jos – your highness." The 'accidental' slip of her tongue was so blatantly obvious that even the besotted prince rolled his eyes.

"Likewise, Lady."

They stood there as an awkward silence fell across the room. Bianca tapped her foot impatiently. Prince Joshua turned to face her.

"What?" He snapped irritably. Bianca stuck her nose in the air – a sight not often seen.

"There's no need to take that tone with me." She said haughtily. "I was just wondering how _long_ it would take for you to _get a move on_."

"What do you mean?" Prince Joshua asked, confused.Bianca sighed and held up her copy of 'Cinderella'.

"It's on the last page: 'Cinderella tried the slipper on and it fit! The prince recognised her at once and immediately asked her to marry him. And they lived happily ever after.'" She looked around. "I've got the fairy godmother's version. It also says that Cinderella's stepsisters and stepmother were very jealous and they were not invited to the wedding. Not that I have anything against you of course – I'm just following my guidebook."

"Wait…" Prince Joshua looked hard at Bianca. "What's your role in all of this?"

Bianca looked slightly guilty for a moment, but rolled her eyes to hide it.

"I'm the fairy godmother. Well, not the _fairy _godmother as such. But I am a godmother…in spirit of course…"

"You supplied her with a dress?" Henrietta asked, astonished

"You supplied her with a carriage?" Lady Yvette asked, astonished.

"You tried to _match make_ me?" Prince Joshua asked, astonished.

"Yes… No, I gave her a lift… and yes, I made her a gown." Bianca paused. "All your questions answered… in reverse order, of course."

"I WANT MY HAPPY ENDING!" Ella bawled suddenly. "I WANT IT NOW!" She jabbed a finger at Bianca. "YOU PROMISED ME!"

Prince Joshua jerked backwards.

"I'm supposed to marry her?" He asked. Bianca nodded tiredly.

"That's what it says in the book." She held up the book again. Prince Joshua peered at Ella.

"She's very beautiful…" He commented. Ella preened.

"Yes." Bianca nodded tiredly.

"But with a head as empty as an oil drum." Prince Joshua began to pace around Ella like a woman at a dress shop. "Look, do I have to marry her?"

The question took Bianca by surprise.

"She's your true love… isn't she?"

Prince Joshua shrugged.

"I thought so…" He began. "But… how much can you tell about someone in one dance?"

"Wow… a mature prince." Bianca muttered.

"Do we have to follow a book?" Prince Joshua asked. Bianca bit her lip.

"I don't know! No one ever asked me that!" She looked at the prince helplessly. Prince Joshua looked back at her pityingly.

"How many 'happily ever afters' have you set up?" He asked curiously.

"This is my first one!" Bianca groaned. "It's been in the family for ages – but I've gone and destroyed it all with my first assignment. We shall have to move!"

Prince Joshua continued to scrutinise her.

"Tell me, why do you do this?"

"Because… because it's tradition!"

"Piracy is tradition too, but we don't honour it." He remarked dryly. Bianca laughed – a short, musical sound.

"I see you do have something in that empty head of yours." She replied, smiling. Then, her smile vanished as her gaze slid to Ella, who was still behaving perfectly now that the prince was in the room. "Are you sure you don't want to marry her, your Highness. She _is _very beautiful… she'd look marvellous on your currency…"

"I'm quite sure." The prince answered firmly. Bianca buried her head in her hands.

"But you _have _to marry someone!" Bianca protested. Prince Joshua looked at her.

"How about you?" He asked innocuously.

"You have – oh!" She broke off, her face turning red. "Why me? I'm not even a fairy!"

Prince Joshua reached out and took her hand.

"Because you are clever… and know the needs of this kingdom better than I do… because… you are."

"Oh!" – was all Bianca could say.

At this point in the story the author must make a rude, but necessary interruption. For all readers who are out there bewailing the hypocrisy of the prince who has _not _appeared to have learnt his lesson that there is _no such thing as love at first sight_, do not despair – or worse, do not stop reading this tale. For the prince shall learn – did you really think Bianca was that type of girl?

For all those readers who are bewailing the this author's above comment that Bianca and Joshua – may I be presumptuous as to refer to him by his first name – will not get together, do notleave yeteither. Instead, read on, and at the end you may flame me. In short, do _not _leave without either finishing or reviewing. Preferably both.

Now, on to the story.

There was a sudden, loud and rude interruption. (even more so than the author's.) Ella, who had been listening to this exchange with wide, open eyes, let out a yell.

"IT'S NOT FAIR!" She screamed. "YOU PROMISED ME A HAPPY ENDING!"

"Oh do hush up." Lady Yvette complained. "I am enjoying this. It's as good as a soap opera, where actors and actresses get up on stage and sing to a bar of soap!"

"I disagree." Henrietta interjected. "It's _better_ than a soap opera. I never saw the attraction of that in any case. I much prefer the operas where people sing to a teapot."

"Whatever do you call those?" Bianca asked, sincerely intrigued.

"I'm not entirely sure…" Henrietta bit her lip. Ella let out a frustrated cry.

"I'm THROUGH with this household!" She screamed, her voice rising above the common rabble. "I QUIT!" With that she stormed out.

"I've been waiting for her to do that for years," commented Lady Yvette. "Now where were we?"

"Discussing jam operas." Henrietta replied eagerly.

"No, don't be silly. Prince Joshua was about to propose to Bee."

Both faces turned back to the blushing pair.

Prince Joshua took Bianca's hand once more.

"Will you marry me?" He asked smiling down at her. Bianca closed her eyes as if to commit the sight to memory for eternity.

"No."

_No, No, No, No, No, No, No, No, No, No, No, No, No, No, No, No, No, No, No, No, No, No, No, No, No, No, No, No, No, No, No, No, No, No, No, No, No, No, No, No, No, No, No, No, No, No._

Well, you get the idea.

"No?" The prince echoed. "Why not?"

Bianca pulled her hand away from his.

"Have you not learnt anything from your previous conquest? There is no – or little – such thing as 'love at first sight'. And I hardly know you, your highness!"

Prince Joshua nodded slowly, beginning to understand at last.

"I suppose I must put it down to childish fantasies of true love." He admitted. "But you are only saying no for this present time, are you not?"

"Yes." Bianca nodded, the beginnings of a smile tugging at her lips.

"Perhaps someday?"

"Someday… when love is wiser." She replied, a full smile on her lips now. Prince Joshua smiled too, and offering her his arm, accompanied her out to where his carriage was waiting.

Moments later, when Henrietta and Lady Yvette walked to the front of their drive, Henrietta noticed a few shards of glass on the cobbled stones – the remains of a glass slipper. She called a servant and the shards of glass were swept away and were no more.

Like clouds on a sunny day. Like rain after a storm.

_**- the end -**_


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